Twisted Obsession
by Libbs
Summary: sings This is the end. My only friend the end....yes, ppl, that's correct. The end. This is it. No more. Here we find out what happens...
1. Prologue

Ever since I was a young boy, my father would tell me that I was to become a Death Eater. This was my destiny; I would not shun it. Every day, at least once, he would tell me about how great the Dark Lord was. How eventually He would return one day; the signs were everywhere. How as soon as He regained full power, we would cause terror to consume every heart, and screams to fill every mind, same as before. "First Harry Potter, then that muggle-lover Dumbledore, then the muggles and mudbloods", he would tell me, ticking each one off on his fingers and smiling gleefully. 

I would smile back, believing that my father could never be wrong. I imagined that my father was in the right, that soon we would purge the world of impure blood; because, really, what good was it?

Years passed, and nothing happened. Despite what my father had told me, Voldemort hadn't come to power…and then I was eleven, and ready to attend Hogwarts, the same school my father had gone to.

Before I left, my father took me aside. "If at all possible, try to make friends with Harry Potter", he told me. "This will be his first year as well, and I want him to have no suspicion of this family."

I nodded. I would never dream of disobeying my father. And as soon as I got on the train, I, along with my friends Crabbe and Goyle, went to find this Potter, to offer my hand in false friendship to the boy I was raised to despise.  

Things did not go well. My offer was refused, as Potter seemed to prefer that Weasley over me. My father had told me all about the Weasley's, and their love of muggles. Disgusting.

Perhaps that's why I wasn't at all surprised when they took up with that mudblood, Granger. She was such an insufferable, know-it-all, bushy haired mudblood, yet Potter seemed to prefer her company to the company of me-a pureblood.

When I spoke of this, my father told me that it was probably because of Potter's own muggle blood. Disgusting. From then on, it became okay to hate Potter, Weasley, and the mudblood.

Two years passed, and Potter delayed the Dark Lord both years. During these years, my father encouraged me to be as awful to Potter and his friends as I could without getting caught. We could not be seen as hating Potter, but as long as no one saw it was fine with him. I did my best; delighting in how furious I could make them, especially Weasley. Yet that mudblood bitch seemed to just shrug me off. And to make matters worse, she beat me in every subject, even Potions, when Snape so obviously favored me.

Needless to say, Father was not happy with me. After my second year he told me that he didn't feel that he could trust me with slipping Tom Riddle's diary to the youngest Weasley, given the fact that I couldn't even beat a mudblood in grades. My father has always been very good at speaking softly while making someone feel like shit. I'd seen him do it to many people, and suffice to say, I was thoroughly ashamed.

I returned to Hogwarts in third year with a new purpose. My purpose was to make that stupid mudblood pay for making me disappoint my father. Unfortunately, I had no new material to use on her, and honestly, it seemed to bother Weasley and Potter more than it bothered her. She dismissed me easily, and it bothered me to no end.

Then I came upon the means to annoy all of them splendidly: Hagrid and his stupid hippogriff. Of course I hadn't been paying attention when the big oaf was explaining about the hippogriff's temper, but who cared? The point was I ended up with a gash on my arm and the perfect way to piss off the so-called Dream Team. I played it for all it was worth, making Potter and Weasley do my potions work for me, telling anyone who would listen about how my father was going to make sure that the hippogriff was executed and the big oaf fired.

It also gave me a chance to taunt Potter about what I knew about Sirius Black, even though I knew it was untrue. My father had told me all about it when Black first escaped, and we had a good laugh, thinking about how Potter would react to the news that Black killed off his family. Father said that it would be great if Potter were to try to hunt down Black after he found out, and they ended up killing each other. "It would get rid of two of our biggest problems", he told me.

Of course, the best thing was my taunting about the hippogriff incident really got to Granger, pissed her off in a way my calling her 'mudblood' didn't. So pissed, in fact, that she slapped me when I made fun of Hagrid's disgusting sobbing over the beast. I barely felt the slap, so pleased was I that I had finally gotten under her skin. 

It's safe to say that by third year I was completely obsessed with breaking Granger. I remembered being really disappointed when the Basilisk in second year didn't kill her, but now I was glad. I wanted to be the one to see her crack, to see her eyes fill with horror and despair when she realized that there was no escape from death…and the sick understanding she would feel when she realized that I was the one who would take her life from her.

In the end, I lost yet again, as both the hippogriff **and** Black managed to escape, and that Granger beat me in exams **again**. Needless to say, Father was not pleased. He never laid a hand on me, but one disappointed look from him always made me feel as horrible as if I **had** been beaten. Seeing his disappointment made my need to hurt Granger even stronger.

I entered my fourth year with that need burning through me, and I resolved to make Granger snap. I'd almost done it third year, how difficult could it be?

In a word: extremely. Damned near impossible, in fact. Now that she wasn't taking so many classes, she was much more composed, and was back to looking at me as though I were dirt. I was livid. How dare she look at me like that? How **dare** she? 

And the worst of it was, not even the taunts of the other Slytherins, nor Rita Skeeter's untrue articles about her seemed to bother Granger. She seemed to live by the philosophy 'ignore it and it'll go away'. Either that or she thought she was superior. Ha! The day that a mudblood is superior to a pureblood I'll become a Gryffindor. 

Thankfully, Potter and Weasley were as easy to piss off as usual, and I let some of my frustration out on them. Unfortunately, I was caught venting my frustration by none other than Professor Moody, or at least the man that we **believed** to be Moody, who decided that it would be fun to turn me into a ferret, right in front of the oh-so-famous Trio.

After that, it was even harder for my insults to bother the mudblood. She simply looked like she was remembering the ferret incident, and gave me my smirk right back. Bitch.

Then there was the matter of the Yule Ball. Stupid bitch went with Viktor Krum, who had been my favorite Quidditch player until he walked in with that filth on his arm. The worst part was that she looked so gorgeous my breath stopped, and I couldn't get it back long enough to insult her, bring her down, make her pay for looking so beautiful.

Later, when she had that row with Weasley and stormed off, tears sparkling in her eyes, I felt jealousy rip through me. The fact that I wasn't supposed to be jealous of Weasley didn't stop it. He shouldn't be able to make her cry when I couldn't. He shouldn't have that power, when he was poorer than I, and a disgrace to purebloods everywhere.

After the ball, my insults toward her tuned down slightly, as I tried to figure out what power Weasley had over her that I didn't. I became more obsessed than ever, not just with breaking her, but also with everything that had to do with her. I even checked out _Hogwarts: A History _from the library to see what she found so fascinating. I still hated her, and the fact that I was obsessed with her as well made me sick to my stomach. I knew that hurting her was the only way to end it.

Diggory's death and the return of Voldemort were my new chance to get to the mudblood, to make her eyes flash in anger, or even better, make her cry. I would savor those tears, devour them with my eyes and delight in them like any normal man would delight in the smile of a lover.

But no, I was once again thwarted as all of her stupid friends hexed me. Bastards. And to top it all off, Granger once again passed me in every class.

On the bright side, Father was in a much better mood, seeing as his master was now back, thanks to Barty Crouch, Jr., who had posed as Professor Moody to infiltrate Hogwarts. When my father had first heard of what Moody had done to me, he was furious, but after he found out it was never Moody at all, and had in fact been Barty Jr. trying to gain Potter's trust, he was elated. "Clever man, he was", he told me countless times, along with "We must all make sacrifices for our Lord, that was simply one of yours."

Fifth year wasn't highly eventful. I toned down my insulting of the mudblood, seeing as she would be killed once Voldemort had enough supporters to make himself known. Of course, I still tried to thwart the trio at every turn, and even managed with the help of my fellow Slytherins and Professor Umbridge, the toad who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts and hated Potter. All I had to do was pretend that I gave a shit about her 'cause', and bam! I was in a position to torture Potter and co. anytime I wanted.

For a while, it was like Christmas year round. Potter was treated like scum, and so was anyone associated with him. Our meddling got old Dumbledore fired. Oh, the joy that I felt during this time was indescribable…I think I even smiled once or twice.

But with all the success, came a downfall. Voldemort got rather careless, which resulted in several Death Eaters, my father included, getting caught and sent to Azkaban. The Minister of Magic was forced to believe Voldemort's return, since he saw him firsthand. Now the whole wizarding world knows that He's back, before he was ready fro them to find out. Dumbledore was reinstated as Headmaster, destroying all the work put into getting him fired, and Umbridge wound up in St. Mungo's, having been driven insane inside of the Forbidden Forest.

All in all, my hard work over the year amounted to nothing, but its okay. Because Voldemort is back, and he will make them pay. All of them. And I will help. As soon as Father gets out of Azkaban-and he will, for the dementors have deserted it in favor of Voldemort-I will be initiated as a Death Eater, and I will help destroy those who almost destroyed my father.

I will start with Potter. I will torture him to the point of death for landing my father in Azkaban, then I will turn him over for Voldemort to kill, for he had wanted to kill Potter for fifteen years.

Then, I will go for the mudblood. She will be mine, to torture, to kill, to destroy. I will torture her not only with the _Cruciatus _curse, but with muggle forms of torture as well. I will pull out her fingernails, one by one; I will break her arms and legs. I will see her cry and hear her beg for death. I will heal her, and then do it all over again, until her mind breaks and I become bored, then I will kill her, finally freed of my twisted obsession.  


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I was originally planning on leaving the story as a one shot, but then someone (AHEM, hobo-hobisho) suggested that it seemed unfinished…reading over it again, I didn't necessarily agree, but then I started typing, and this is what happened. I also decided to change the rating because this story now has physical abuse, and will have more. IF READING ABOUT PHYSICAL AND MENTAL ABUSE BOTHERS YOU, GO NO FARTHER. I warn you now: this fic says angst for a reason. It will not be happy, or funny in any way, except maybe for some dark humor. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Chapter 1 

She struggled against the bonds that held her, but they stayed tight, binding her to the chair. Giving a frustrated scream, she leaned back, only to stare into the face of her captor. Hissing, she moved to kick him, and with a laugh and a flick of his wand he bound her legs, as well.

"Well, well, aren't we the feisty one?" he said, still chuckling slightly, amused both at her attempts at escape and her pathetic move to hurt him. 

She growled, and he laughed again. "Yes, I knew you would be feisty." Her captor stooped down, and put his face right into hers. "Tell me," he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke, "how feisty are you in _other _circumstances?"

Furious at his words and at the implication, she spit into his face, and drew a savage pleasure from the way he recoiled in disgust, wiping her spittle from his face as he did so.  Though she tried to stop it, she couldn't help the small smile of bitter amusement that curled her lips.

Seeing this, her captor drew his wand once again, preparing to cause as much damage as possible. Seeing this, she closed her eyes and waited for the pain.

When it didn't come, she slowly opened her eyes to find her captor staring at her. "No", he whispered to himself, putting his wand away, "I don't think so". 

She allowed herself one moment of hope that maybe he wouldn't hurt her, and then a flash of white light filled her vision as her head rocked back forcefully, and horrible pain exploded in her jaw. When her vision cleared, she looked up at her captor, who was smiling viciously, and tried to sneer, only her mouth wouldn't cooperate. Her bottom jaw swayed uselessly, and she knew that it had been dislocated. 

She glared up at her captor, piling as much hate as she could behind her stare, trying to convey without words how much she despised him. The actual words would hurt too much to say, and besides, he didn't deserve them. So all she could do was glare.

Once again, the man's eyes glittered in amusement, and he told her in a confiding tone, "That felt good. I promised myself years ago that I would do this. Of course, I didn't think that it would take so long. But no matter, better late than never I say. Oh, am I ever going to enjoy this. 'Till tomorrow then."

He turned to leave, but before he could get more than halfway to the door she hissed, "Bastard", hurting herself more in the process but really not caring as her anger took over. Her captor froze, his back rigid, before turning back to her.  Once again he leaned close to her face, obviously enjoying the way she recoiled.

"You know, just for that I don't think that I will be coming back tomorrow…maybe a few days with a dislocated jaw and no food will make you realize just who is in charge here." A pause as he looked at her face, and gave her a gentle smile, or one that could be mistaken for gentle if no one noticed the total hate in his eyes.  She closed her own eyes helplessly, trying to turn her face away only to be stopped by a strong hand that succeeded in sending more agony through her jaw.

"Yes, I think it just might." And suddenly his mouth was on hers, not gently but harshly, a brutal tongue forcing its way past her lips and into her mouth, plunging savagely. The horrible pain that this bought on, coupled with disgust at what was happening, served to get the girl's gorge to rise. Struggling not to gag, she closed her eyes tighter and prayed for it to be over. Helpless tears leaked from her eyes, and against her will she let out a small whimper of pain.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the kiss was over, and she opened her eyes as her captor pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  Rocking back, he stared at her for a minute, before leaning forward and licking her tears off her skin like a kid licks dripping ice cream from his cone.  Disgusted, she shuddered, and he pulled away again, smiling gleefully.

"Yum", he said, winking at her. "Your fear tastes delicious." Standing, he once again made his way to the door, calling back over his shoulder as he went, "Until next time, mudblood."

As soon as the door slammed behind him, Hermione Granger turned her head to the side and threw up. Sobbing, she scooted as far away from the mess as she could, then laid her cheek against the cold floor and tried to ignore the pain.

~****~

He paced around the room, waiting, entertaining himself with the memory of what had occurred in the dungeons not five minutes earlier. It had been so sweet, seeing the fear in the mudblood's eyes when he had entered the room, even better when she had attempted to hide that fear under the guise of anger. He had hoped that she wouldn't be easy to break…he needed destroying her to be worth the wait. And it was. Oh, was it ever.

Grinning, he looked into the mirror, and scowled at his reflection. Green eyes glared back at him under a head of hair as black as midnight, scar standing out cruelly against the pale skin. If he had known it would take this long, he would have stayed down there longer, torturing the mudblood as much as he could. 

Then, so fast he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking, his eyes changed. Mesmerized, he watched as the hair rapidly shortened and lightened, he grew several inches, and lost some muscle and the need for those disgusting glasses. Lastly, he watched as the scar faded into nothing, and his forehead became smooth and unblemished once again. 

Blowing a kiss to his reflection, Draco Malfoy moved away from the mirror, his mind already forming the next round of torture for the weeping girl in the dungeons.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Well, here I am again, and I once again changed the genre. I decided horror fit just a lil bit better…don't you agree? Anyway, warnings. **Clears throat**: ATTENTION FUTURE READERS (maybe) IF YOU CONTINUE ON THIS LITTLE JOURNEY AND DECIDE TO READ MY STORY, I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE HORRORS YOU MAY ENCOUNTER. THIS IS A VERY VIOLENT STORY. THERE WILL BE NO SAPPY LOVE MOMENTS OR ANYTHING EVEN RESEMBLING PRETTY. IT WILL HAVE VIOLENCE AND FORCED SEXUAL ACTIVITY, THO. IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE IT, DO NOT READ. I REPEAT: **DO. NOT. READ.** YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Okay, basically that means if you flame me about the theme of this story, you will receive a reply asking you why the hell you even bothered to read my story when you knew damn good and well what it was about. Oh yeah, almost forgot…slash is also in this. Nothing blatant yet, but there are definite references.

True to his word, her captor did not return for several days; days in which Hermione had plenty of time to hurt, and to think. She knew that there was no way that her captor was Harry, despite appearances. Hermione knew how the Polyjuice Potion worked very well, thank you. She had made one in her second year, after all. Harry was one of her best friends; he would never hurt her because he loved her. The only person he had ever loved more than her and Ron was Draco Malfoy.

_Draco Malfoy. _Hermione's mind stuck on that and just wouldn't let it go. Even though Draco had turned away from the Dark and become a spy for the Light, rather like Snape, Hermione did not trust him. She had tried to tell herself that it was just because she was slightly jealous of how much her best friend loved him, jealous of the way that he stole Harry's attention from her. She knew that could very well be it; after Ron had died Harry had pretty much become Hermione's whole world, but now that he had Draco he didn't need her as much as she needed him. Also, after changing sides, Draco had never been anything but courteous to her. Yet Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that he was up to something. It was in the way she sometimes caught him studying her when Harry wasn't paying attention. As though he still thought of her as the lowly mudblood, and would just _love_ to say so.

However, Hermione had kept these thoughts to herself, telling herself that Harry was truly happy, he deserved that happiness, and if Draco Malfoy still hated her for her bloodline, well, what could she expect from nearly eighteen years of his father pounding that belief into his head? So she had smiled when she saw them together, had rejoiced with them when Harry finally defeated Voldemort, and had ignored any odd glances thrown at her by Draco.

Now, she wasn't so sure that she had done the right thing in ignoring them. What if Draco had just been using Harry all this time? What if the prejudice ran deeper than even she had believed? Hermione didn't want it to be true. She wanted Harry to finally have someone to love, someone good, but who else was close enough to Harry to get the final ingredient needed for the Polyjuice Potion? 

In her desperation to find someone else that could be doing this to her, _anyone _but the one person her best friend loved with all his heart, Hermione ran through the list of still-living Death Eaters, only to find her search was all in vain. The only surviving Death Eaters were currently in Azkaban, put there by her, Harry, and _that lying little BASTARD!_

Sudden rage got a hold of her, and Hermione screamed, uncaring about the pain that ripped through her body as it jerked in response to her fury. She screamed with everything she had, no words, just a drawn out shriek of inarticulate rage. She screamed until her throat was raw, until her voice gave out, and when it did she simply shut her eyes, slumping in a dead faint as the pain in her body finally reached her.

~****~

When she next opened her eyes, it was only to stare into the fake green ones of her captor. Her anger, which she had thought spent earlier, suddenly returned full force, and finding she was unable to use her voice, Hermione piled all her rage into her eyes and spit in his face. Green eyes twinkled behind glasses and lips opened to let out laughter of delight. Her captor was fairly _dancing_ with glee as he grinned down at her, a mixture of amusement and a horrible sort of relief in his voice as he told her, "And to think that I was afraid you would lose your fire. Why, you're just as feisty, if not more so."

Hermione had to keep repeating to herself that this was not Harry, standing in front of her and looking so cheerful at the sight of her fury. Not her Harry. Not the Harry that she had known since she was eleven years old. Not the sweet, considerate, sometimes a little touchy but otherwise even tempered Harry Potter that she had loved like a brother for most of her life. No, this was an imposter, a cheap fake of Harry to confuse her mind, to break her in the worst way. She had to keep that in mind and not lose her head, not fall into the trap that her captor had set.

Her captor suddenly muttered something, flicking what could only be a wand, and Hermione knew that he had said a spell. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable pain, but it never came. Instead, a wonderful warmth seeped through jaw, and it no longer hurt. Eyes wide in disbelief, she opened and closed her mouth a few times to test it, and when no pain came, raised her dumfounded face to look him in the eye.

He was grinning, but it was a cold grin, full of malicious intent. Suddenly frightened, Hermione tried to move away from him, but quick as a flash he waved his wand and said another spell, forcing her to remain where she was. He looked down at her, still grinning, and asked, "Well, what shall we do today?" His eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes, suddenly lit up with an idea, and his grin grew even wider. "I know!" he exclaimed, his voice full of twisted joy, "Food! Now stay right there while I go get some", he told her, chuckling to himself at his own joke. He ran out of the dungeons, humming a tune to himself.

Within a few moments he returned, carrying a tray full of food in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He set these items just out of her reach, and then stepped back, observing her. 

The hunger that Hermione had barely felt through her pain and anger suddenly raged through her, only overpowered by the fierce thirst that accompanied it. She tried not to let this new weakness show, but unable to turn her head or move in any way, she couldn't help the longing that entered her eyes as she stared at the glass in front of her.

Her captor chuckled, taking pleasure in her obvious misery. Upon hearing that chuckle, Hermione tried once again to appear disinterested, but soon gave up, knowing it was a losing battle. Once he saw the defeated look in her eyes, her captor asked, "Would you like something to drink?" as though they were at a party and he was the gracious host instead of a torturer. He released her from the spell, but kept the glass and food out of her reach. Oh, how she hated him. 

Upon seeing her anger, the man gave a delighted laugh. "Oh, I do think that I will like this", he said softly, reaching out to stroke her hair. Hissing, Hermione tried to bite him, which resulted in a hard slap across her face. "If you _ever_", the man who looked like Harry and wasn't hissed, "even _think_ of trying that again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

Hermione stared into his eyes, and realized that he meant it. "Oh, I understand, all right", she bit back, and barely kept herself from adding _I understand that you're psycho_. The man leaned back and returned her stare. "Good", he replied softly. "Very good." Abruptly he turned and picked up the glass of water. He turned back to Hermione and asked her, "Do you want this?"

For a moment Hermione thought of pretending that she didn't, but decided not to, knowing that he'd already seen how much she wanted the water. _That's probably his plan_ she thought furiously. _Get me to admit that I want it and then keep it out of my reach. _Deciding that she might as well get it over with, Hermione nodded, and he thrust the glass into her hands.

Surprised, all Hermione could do for a moment was stare down at the glass, but when he reached his hand out to grab it back, she raised the glass to her lips, ready to savor the water's coolness in her mouth, on her tongue.

She should have known better.

Just as the water touched her lips, just as the first few delicious drops hit her tongue her captor raised his wand and with a muttered "_Accio_", the glass was back in his hand, mocking her.

At first all Hermione could do was stared dumbly at the glass in his hand, wondering detachedly just how she could have been so stupid, but her captor's chuckle brought her back with a snap. She raised her eyes to the level of his face and noticed that he was watching her bemusedly, a smirk on that his face…Harry's face. Harry, who had never smirked in his life. She felt tears burning her eyes, and blinked them back angrily. _No._ She would not cry again.

"Did you really think that I would just _give_ you the water?" her captor asked, amused. "And everyone was always going on about how _smart_ you are. If only they could see you now, huh?" Setting the glass down on the tray of food, he stood, taking the tray with him. "I guess I'll just take this and be on my way," he told her with a smile. He began to leave the dungeons, then paused, as if an idea had just occurred to him.

"Wait a second", he said, beaming down at her, " I know a way that you can get the water." He rolled his eyes and smacked his forehead, saying; "I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. Okay, here's what I propose," he told her, setting the tray down and moving towards Hermione, stopping when he was a few feet from where she stood. "I'll let you have that glass of water if you put that filthy mouth to a use that suits it first." He took in her confused expression with a grin, and elaborated, "In terms you r mind can understand, I mean blow me. Literally."

He laughed as Hermione recoiled in horror, a whisper of "No" escaping her lips. In one smooth motion he'd pulled down his pants, taking his underwear with them and freeing himself, stepping out of the clothes piled around his feet. Hermione's eyes widened a split second before they slammed shut, and she shook her head whilst repeating "No, oh God, no", over and over.

"Yes", her captor replied, his tone indicating his amusement at her antics. "Don't try to pretend that you don't want to. I've seen you looking, noticed the expression in your eyes, the one that says 'if only…' if only _what_, 'Mione?" he asked, her nickname coming mockingly from his lips. "If only he loved me, if only he noticed…_if only he were straight_? Well, here's your chance. Suck me off, blow me hard, get down on those filthy knees of yours and _gobble _me." And then he laughed cruelly.

It was that laugh that made the horror recede; that laugh that told her clearly just how much her tormentor was enjoying this little game that made her open her eyes and scramble away from him. Glaring defiantly, she told him, "Never. If you put that…that disgusting _thing _in my mouth I'll bite it off. Do you understand me, asshole?"

"_Crucio_." The word was a hiss, and suddenly Hermione was on fire from head to foot. She fell to the floor, screaming and sobbing, as the pain roared throughout her body, worse than anything that she'd ever felt in her life. It was over almost as suddenly as it had started, but it seemed to go on forever. When it was over, Hermione found that she lacked the strength to stand and so lay on the ground, panting harshly and feeling as if she were about to throw up. Distantly she heard her captor putting his pants back on, but the sound was far away and unimportant. Dimly there was the sound of a whispered spell, and then there was a head close to hers, lips whispering into her ear and she couldn't get away, couldn't twist from the awful voice and the things it was saying.

"Oh, but you will," the voice was saying, "A few days without water and I'm positive you will. You will and you'll swallow every single drop of me, or no water. I can wait; I'm a very patient man." With that said, he rose, picked up the tray, and made as if to leave. Yet once again he turned back, winking at her conspiratorially. "I lied", he admitted, giving her a mad grin, "I really have no patience."  Plucking the glass of water from the tray, he set it in her line of vision and left, calling over his shoulder as he did, "Let's see how strong you really are."

Helplessly, Hermione stared at the water in front of her. Her mouth watered, but there was nothing that she could do to alleviate her thirst, as the last spell he had uttered had been a binding spell. So she was forced to watch the ice in the water melt, forced to watch the glass sweat with the cold, and do nothing. 

He came back a few hours later, and she told him to go to hell. He laughed and left. But the next day he was back, and the day after that. Both times Hermione had flatly refused to do anything, and both times he had left with nothing more than a laugh. But they both knew she was weakening; that soon she would give in. The problem was, Hermione decided on the second day, that she hadn't known how this would feel. She hadn't known that thirst could become painful, didn't know that the pain could rip through her body and take her over. She didn't know that she could hate the sight of a simple glass of water. Now she did, and on the third day, when he came to ask yet again, she didn't refuse…and she got her water.

~****~

It had taken her three days to crack, but crack she did, and he got what he wanted. She'd gotten on her knees without resistance, took him into her mouth and done as he'd told her. She'd cried the whole time. It was the best blowjob Draco Malfoy had ever received, and he'd come in seemingly endless bursts, with her swallowing every drop, just as he'd told her she would. At the end he saw the pitiful hope in her eyes, hope that battled with fear that he wouldn't do as he'd promised, that he'd simply leave her without water. For one moment he toyed with the idea of doing just that, and then decided against it. He wasn't ready to kill her just yet. So he gave her the water, and the dumb gratitude in her eyes was almost enough to send him over the edge again. He liked this, this power that came with tormenting her, forcing her to please him to live. He was just afraid that he had broken her. He didn't want to do that just yet, but from the looks of it, he had, and now it was a matter of days before he tired of her.

He watched her drink the water, gulping it down so quickly that she almost choked. He knew that she was going too fast, but he didn't stop her, rather, he watched with pleasure as she started to heave. "Best keep it down", he told her, "You wont be betting any more for a while." 

She glared at him, still heaving, and Draco was pleased to see that he hadn't broken her, after all. He gave a small sigh of relief and watched as she finally got her gorge under control. Deciding that he better be going, he rose, picking up the glass that she had so carelessly dropped when she was through with it. "'Till next time," he murmured, blowing her a kiss as he left.

After the Polyjuice Potion wore off, Draco headed home. He was currently pitching a rather large tent in his pants and he knew just the former Gryffindor to help him get rid of it.   


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, guys, pay attention. This chapter is as bad as the last, if not worse, so if you are easily (or maybe not so easily) grossed out, do us a favor and please don't read. I'm dead serious about this. If you think you can handle it, then by all means, go ahead. But please don't flame me telling me how disturbing it is; I already know, trust me.**

**Thank you to all of you who reviewed. I know this chapter was long in coming, and I thank you for your patience. **

Well, here it is… 

Hermione tossed fitfully in the dungeons, dreaming. Every now and then a whimper would escape her lips, alluding to just what sort of dream it was. Her body knew that she needed to get up, and struggled fruitlessly to wake her. But her mind, which was infinitely stronger than her body on the best of days, was stuck in the dream and couldn't get out…

She was running, running endlessly down a dark corridor. She was panting and crying; there was a stitch in her side and her muscles screamed in protest. But she knew that if she stopped even for a second, she would be unable to continue, and he would kill her. So she ran on, but even as she did she knew that soon her body would just collapse into itself, and all hope would be lost for her. She turned a corner, and crashed into a broad chest. That was the last straw for her over tired body; her legs gave out and with a small sob, she fell to the floor.

_This was it, she knew. He had found her, and now he would kill her. She tried not to imagine how he would do it. She knew he could make it painless but he wouldn't, he wanted it to be painful, wanted to hear her screams and delight in the sound. There were so many painful ways to die, and she admitted to herself that she really didn't want to, not yet, not before she saw Harry one last time…_

_"Look at me", he hissed, and Hermione did helplessly, feeling as though hands were on her head, forcing her to look. Green eyes laughed down at her, and Hermione gasped. No, it couldn't be true…not him…never him…_

"Oh, yes", he whispered, "Me." He grinned down at her in pure mirth, malice shining out of his eyes and into hers, and still he whispered. "I will break you in every way possible, and when your mind is so much broken glass, I will kill you. You will die with my face in your mind and know that it was I who brought you to such an end. But don't worry just yet," he whispered, seeing the fear in her eyes and loving every second of it, "you're still mostly sane. Soon, though. Soon." Then he laughed, the hollow sound echoing throughout the corridor, and as it echoed all around her Hermione knew that all this monster said was true, that she would die, and as she felt her mind splinter Hermione opened her mouth and screamed…

The scream was all too real, and yanked Hermione out of her nightmare like a slap in the face. Gasping, she hugged herself while tears streamed down her face, repeating, "A dream, just a dream," over and over, voice shaking. For a few moments, she believed she might give herself a heart attack. Her heart was beating so fast, and her head was pounding. A blindness had settled over her. All she could hear was the blood roaring in her ears, all she could feel was the fear and misery that surrounded her, an almost tangible thing in the darkness. Finally, though, she got herself under control, and for the first time since waking felt a presence other than her own. Now she could see him, sitting not two feet from where she lay, a small smile on his lips, shoulders shaking in silent laughter, and she knew that he'd been there to witness her dream. He had watched her torment and had laughed, delighted.

A wave of fury hit her, though not as strong as it had been in the days prior. The days before he'd forced her to—to…the days before the water. Hermione felt tears of humiliation well up in her eyes, but she refused to cry. No way she would let him see how much he affected her…how much he'd hurt her. Not that he didn't know that, she thought wearily as he stood up, a smirk still playing about his lips. He walked over to her, stopping when he was about two inches away. Grinning, he bent down to whisper in her ear, "You're right, you know. You are going to die here." Pulling back, he observed her expressionlessly for a minute, then stood. Without saying a word to her, he turned away and left, leaving Hermione to stare after him in confusion. What was he doing? Was there to be no torture today? Not even daring to hope, she watched the door apprehensively, and sure enough, he came walking through it a few minutes later, bearing a tray of food.

_Oh, God, no_, Hermione thought desperately, remembering what had happened the last time he'd brought in food. _Not again. Please, no._ Her captor put the tray down in front of Hermione, not even looking at her, and said, "Eat." She stared at him, waiting for the catch, expecting him to tell her that in order to eat, she'd have to perform a number of tasks, all of which would make her lose the food anyway. But he said nothing, he simply stood there, waiting, and tentatively Hermione reached for the food, all the time expecting him to snatch it from under her nose, laughing cruelly.

When he didn't, Hermione grabbed the food and gobbled it down as fast as she could, not stopping until the plate was completely clean. When it was, her captor picked up the tray and walked out of the dungeons once more, all without so much as glancing at his prisoner. But this time Hermione really couldn't ponder what he was up to, as she was seized with horrible cramps, and no matter how she tried she just couldn't stop her meal from coming back up. She stared at her vomit dispassionately, knowing now why he'd given her the food…and why he hadn't stopped her from eating it. Now she was weaker than before, completely helpless.

It was at this very moment that he walked back in, and, looking first at the pool of vomit and then at Hermione, a small smile forming on his face. "Now, that just wont do", he said, moving towards her once again. Hermione tried to scoot away but he whipped out his want and put a body-binding curse on her, chuckling. "No, it just won't do", he repeated, "You need your strength for the next round." Grinning, he picked Hermione up and set her down next to the mess she had made. Releasing her from the body-bind, he laughed as she started to move away, then hissed, "_Imperio!_"

Hermione suddenly felt light headed and free, as though nothing really mattered anymore. Not being in the dungeons with a madman disguised as Harry Potter, not the things said madman had done to her, not even the fact that she was surely going to die. All these worries seemed suddenly trivial and unimportant, and a sweet, vague feeling of happiness and content filled her. She relaxed, and felt a loopy smile appear on her face. Life was good. Her captor laughed again, and the laughter echoed in her head in the strangest way, but really, that wasn't all too important either. All that was really important was the hand that was turning her head gently to look at the mess on the floor, and the soft but commanding voice in her head saying, _Eat it_.

Hermione felt herself complying willingly, picking up whole handfuls of the stuff and putting it in her mouth, swallowing without tasting. A distant part of herself was watching all this with horror, but it didn't matter, because Hermione didn't stop until the vomit was gone. She felt her gorge rise, but that was dim, like the voice in the back of her head that was screaming that this was wrong, that she should stop. Besides, the other voice was telling her to _keep it down_, and suddenly she didn't feel like throwing up anymore. In fact, she felt fine…better than fine. Then the voice whispered, _See that far wall? The one with the chains?_ Hermione looked at the far wall and nodded; it was quite easy to recognize with the chains glinting in what light there was. The voice continued, _Go over there and wait while I chain you up. _Still drifting, Hermione once again complied, walking over and waiting patiently while her captor secured the chains to her wrists and ankles, a small, dazed smile on her face. A smile that disappeared abruptly as the curse was taken off, and she realized exactly what she'd done.

Horrified, she turned her head to look at the spot where her partially digested food had lain moments before, praying that she had passed out somehow and dreamed the last few minutes. No such luck, she realized as she saw the empty spot where her vomit had been. Hermione gagged silently. She knew where that had gone. Pale, she turned her horrified gaze to her captor, who was laughing quietly. "I do so love the Imperius Curse", he told her, winking. "It makes the job of forcing someone to submit to your will so much easier."

Still grinning, he reached into his robes and pulled something out. Hermione squinted in the dim light. It looked like…a pair of pliers. But why on earth would he want with those?

Her captor didn't make her wonder for long. His eyes followed her gaze and his grin grew wider. He leaned toward her as if to confide a great secret, and whispered, "You see, mudblood, I made myself a promise a long time ago. I promised that I would torture you, and then kill you. Now, of all the ways I thought of in which to do this, there was one that I really liked. Do you know what that was?" Hermione didn't respond, but he didn't seem to notice, or care. His smile turned more maliciously cruel than she could believe possible, and continued, "No? Well then, let me show you," and proceeded to rip her fingernails off, one by one.

Hermione screamed as agony tore through her. White hot knives of pain shot up and down her body as he continued, pausing only to look at the pain in her eyes and in her screams and revel in it, an expression of elation crossing his face as each scream tore itself from Hermione's throat.

And scream she did. It was her only outlet for the enormous pain that consumed her, threatening to destroy her. She screamed until her throat was raw, and still she kept on, letting out harsh barks instead of the wailing screams of before. Then, as she lost her voice and could do no more than open and close her mouth in a silent, endless scream, she couldn't take it anymore, and her body shut down in self defense, her mind retreating as far away from the pain as it could possibly get as darkness finally claimed Hermione and she pas

~****~

She had held out for much longer than he'd thought she would, much longer than he'd dared to hope. Screaming in endless bursts, she'd tried to struggle, but the chains held her in place. He'd managed to go through her whole left hand before she'd suddenly stopped struggling and making noise, body going limp. Furiously, he kicked her, wanting her awake so that he could enjoy his torture, but the filth didn't move, she only hung limply and bled. Angry that it was over for the time being, he let her bleed, knowing that she would not die just yet. He left her hanging there and stormed back upstairs, trying to calm himself before he went back home to that twit of a Gryffindor.

Draco observed himself closely in the nearest mirror, and grimaced. Gods, how he hated Potter…almost as much as he hated the mudblood. But pretending to be in love with him did have its perks. It had kept him close to the mudblood, for one, and now that she was missing, it kept him from suspicion, as well. It had also given him the idea for the mindfuck he was pulling on the mudblood. It was amusing to watch her face as she saw the person she loved the most in the world doing all this to her…not that he planned on keeping with this ruse to the end. No, in the end, it would be his face she saw, not Potter's. But for now, it was an amusing game.

Noting that he was covered with blood, Draco shook his head. Now, that just wouldn't do. He preformed a cleaning charm on himself and with an evil smile, Apparated home, where he was received by the too trusting Harry. But that night, as Harry wept with missing Hermione he caught the small smile on Draco's face that his lover couldn't hide, and began to think to himself.

It was quite possible Draco had underestimated Harry Potter.__


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well here it is, another installment of Twisted Obsession. Be happy. I wrote this just for you people. Yes you, the psychos who want me to continue…this is for you.**

**Spiffy**

**ghypscee **

**demented sock monkey: and it has to be said, I love your name. * grins * thanks for reading.**

**Julie: Gee, thanks. * blushes ***

**hermie4sev**

**Braya**

**rose-petal-forever**

**sean: * evil grin ***

**The Man With the Cupcakes: aww, how _sweet_. Careful J, you might be going soft.**

**hobo-hobisho: * blows a kiss * you are a goddess. And don't worry, rape with foreign objects squicks me too. Not gonna happen here.**

**Serpent du feu: okay, you're a sick f*ck…nahh, just kidding! I'm really glad you like. Oh, and if you're still reading this, let me tell you that you might just get your wish ;)**

**AngiePanj**

**AngelStorm: * grins * I like the way you think, girl!**

**Erae**

**Lisa**

**Ottowan Angel**

**I'll Never Tell: trust me, I wont just stop writing, I know where this story is going, and I'm definitely finishing it. Don't worry, Softie!Draco will NOT be making an appearance in this fic…its not in the stars. * grins * oh, and he was talking about Harry.**

**Okay now, with that taken care of, read and enjoy!!!**

Harry Potter was no dolt. Well, okay, he was rather slow, but that was only to be expected, what with the strength and power it had taken to kill Voldemort and bury so many friends, not to mention what the strain of losing Hermione as well was doing to his already frazzled nerves. But none of that meant that his brain had deserted him completely. Oh, no. In fact, Harry had become more paranoid than ever before after killing Voldemort; he was always watching his back, expecting an attack from every source imaginable. The only people he trusted completely were Hermione and Draco.

_Draco. _Now there was something for Harry's mind to chew on. Draco had been a constant support to Harry all through the war, ever since he had suddenly joined the side of Light, seemingly out of nowhere. Draco had later confessed to Harry that he himself had been the reason the blonde former-Slytherin had decided to defy his past and fight against Voldemort, and more importantly, his father.

At the time, Harry had needed to believe that what Draco had said was true. He'd just lost his best friend in the world to the war raging around him, was losing more and more friends as the days wore on, and he needed someone to care for him, to fill the void Ron had left in his heart. Of course, Draco had filled the void in an entirely different way than Ron had, and Harry had found himself relying on the blonde more and more as time went by; even going so far as to neglect Hermione and her obvious pain. It only got worse after Voldemort died. Harry hadn't wanted Hermione around him for a few months afterward; he would have no one but Draco near him. He knew that this was hurting his best friend, and he sorely regretted that, but he had needed to reclaim some happiness in his life, and Draco had been able to help him do that. Before long, Harry was completely in love with the ex Death Eater, and they had moved in together, leaving Hermione out even more. She was just too much a reminder of Ron, and Harry found to his dismay that he was quite willing to keep things the way they were going.

But Draco had convinced him otherwise. He had told him, in a kind, patient voice that was so unlike the Malfoy of old days; that Harry needed Hermione, that he would regret cutting her out of his life in the end. So Harry had started a tentative communication with her, and realized that Draco had been right. While Hermione was in fact a reminder of Ron, it wasn't a painful one. Rather, it was comforting to sit down with her and discuss Ron; the Ron they had known at Hogwarts. For all his changes Draco still couldn't do that, and though Harry shared his grief with Draco the other man couldn't understand it as well as Hermione.

In the end, the memories of Ron had saved their friendship, and soon Hermione was a regular guest at Harry and Draco's flat, just as they were in hers. And if there was any tension between his lover and his best friend, Harry didn't notice it, or wrote it off as some old grudges healing slower than others.

But now, Harry wasn't so sure. Draco had been acting odd ever since Hermione's disappearance; going off for hours at a time without telling Harry, being strangely quiet when Hermione was mentioned…and then there was that smile. Draco didn't know that Harry had seen it, he had thought the other man too caught up in his grief, but he had noticed, and he didn't like it one bit. That smile suggested that Draco was in no way upset about Hermione being gone; that he was in fact overjoyed at her absence. Why would that be?

And then there was the problem that there were no known Death Eaters that could have wanted this sort of revenge on Hermione. Any who might have held such a grudge were either dead or locked away in Azkaban, each and every one sentenced to a Kiss. There hadn't been any breakouts, and in truth the only Death Eater who hadn't received the Kiss was Blaise Zabini, who was now in St. Mungo's after being tortured to the point of insanity by Draco Malfoy.

There it was again; Draco's name popping up in the middle of his thoughts. Draco. Somehow it all went back to Draco, and Harry wasn't comfortable with this at all.

There was another thing. A few nights after Hermione had been kidnapped, Draco had come home in a very excited state. He'd practically jumped Harry, ignoring the darker boy's protests as he took him forcefully without even bothering to prep him; Harry had felt something inside of him tear, he had cried out in pain and pulled away from Draco, but not before Draco had come explosively, and definitely not to late to see the satisfied expression on Draco's face…almost as if he had enjoyed hurting Harry.

Later Draco had apologized profusely, had blamed what he'd done on anxiety for Hermione, and Harry had believed him. Now he knew that he just hadn't wanted to face the truth; something very wrong was going on with Draco. Something, it looked now, that had to do with Hermione.

But…Draco had been so wonderful with him, and here Harry was suspecting him of being involved with Hermione's disappearance. Surely…surely Draco wasn't capable of something like that, was he? Alone in his flat once again, Harry gave a small shudder, while deep in the Malfoy dungeons, his best friend in the world began to lose her grip on reality…

~****~

Draco hadn't been able to visit the mudblood today…he'd had too many things to do. He did have appearances to keep up, after all. He'd gone to the ministry, endured Longbottom's stumbling over his condolences for Harry, and his promises that they would find Hermione, then paid his usual quota of Galleons to the bumbler; the quota his father had set and which he had refused to get rid of, despite Harry's protests. He'd told the other man that although his father was a right beast, giving money to the Ministry periodically had been a good idea, even if the reason behind said idea was wrong. What Draco didn't tell Harry was that he also had the wrong reasons for giving his money so readily. If the Ministry knew him for his kindness, they would be less likely to suspect him if things went sour, just as they were now. Of course, being the kept lover of The Boy Who Finally Defeated Voldemort was plenty reason for Draco to go on unsuspected, but the Slytherin had always been fond of having a backup plan.

With this in mind, Draco took care of what needed to be done at the Ministry, which was basically a check to see if they were getting close to finding the mudblood and paying his dues, as he jokingly thought of them. When things got too boring, Draco amused himself by thinking of all the things he might still be able to do to the filth in his dungeons…if her mind hadn't already snapped, that was. Draco believed the creature was stronger than that, but he knew that she was cracking. Still, there was fun to be had, and he fully intended to enjoy it while it lasted. 

When Longbottom had finally finished his clumsy consolations, Draco left, wondering how on earth that man managed to become the current Minister of Magic. Wonders never cease. Bored on the way home, Draco entertained himself with how the mudblood had looked as she'd screamed, how the tears had fallen down her face in a torrent of pain, how the blood had flowed from her fingers as Draco had pulled her nails out, one by one.

In high spirits, Draco decided to make a small stop to get himself something to celebrate. Some time later, he emerged from a small store, a bottle of champagne and some fruit in his hands. He whistled a tune to himself until he reached his and Harry's flat, quickly putting on a sad face before entering so that the idiot inside didn't suspect anything. Draco didn't want to ruin the surprise too early, after all. Opening the door, Draco called, "I'm home, Love." When he received no answer, he frowned slightly, but quickly wiped it off of his face as he made his way towards the bedroom, where Harry was fast asleep on their bed, drooling all over the sheets. Draco allowed himself a small sneer of disgust. He would have to set fire to nearly everything he owned after Harry was gone, that was certain. Couldn't have anything he'd contaminated lying around.

Wiping the sneer off of his face, Draco shook Harry gently, saying, "Harry, get up. Wake up, Love", until Harry finally stirred. His eyes opened and blinked sleepily up at Draco, and then he recoiled. Draco frowned. "Relax, Love, it's just me", he whispered, and saw a flash of fear go through Harry's eyes before they went blank. "Draco?" he said in a small voice, and Draco ignored his disgust and slid across the bed. Running his fingers through Harry's hair he murmured, "Yes, it's me, you silly Gryffindor" as he continued to pet Harry. The other man went very still, then pulled away. Draco narrowed his eyes. "Any news on 'Mione?" Harry asked quietly, and Draco shook his head. "I'm afraid they still don't know anything", he replied, waiting for the other man's face to crumble and for Harry to fall crying into his arms, as he always did.

But Harry did nothing of the sort. Instead, he gave Draco an unreadable look, before getting out of the bed. "I think that I'm going to head down to the Ministry myself, and make them do something", he said firmly, and again Draco saw the flash of something like fear run through Harry's eyes. Now why should he be afraid?

Harry Apparated out of the building, only stopping to tell Draco not to wait up for him, he might be awhile. After Harry Apparated, Draco stared at the spot where the other man had been for a long time, pondering what had just happened. Something about this whole thing was off, somehow…

Suddenly Draco understood everything, and his lips twisted into a furious snarl. "Oh, you little bastard…" he murmured softly, and then Apparated out of the flat.

Scant seconds later, Harry, followed by a horde of Aurors and Ministry Officials, Apparated into the living room where Draco had been moments before. They searched the flat for Draco, but found it to be empty. And now the tears fell from Harry's eyes as he realized that Draco had indeed been the one who had taken Hermione. "I had hoped I was wrong", he whispered softly, and Alaster Moody put a hand on his shoulder. "So did we", he said in a gruff voice, and Harry broke down completely. If something horrible happened to Hermione…if she—and Harry found he had to think it, had to let it out—died, it would be his fault. He covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly, praying to a God that he'd never believed in for Hermione to be all right.

~****~

When she heard the sound of the dungeon door being opened, Hermione tried to raise her head, but found it too difficult. Everything hurt, and really, it required way too much strength for her to look at the person who was doing all this to her—and the mockery of Harry was just too awful to take.

He spoke, "Hello, mudblood", and Hermione looked up in surprise, her pain forgotten as she stared into the real face of her captor for the first time.

"Malfoy", she spat furiously, taking in the perfect blonde hair and grey eyes with no surprise, "I knew it was you."

Malfoy laughed. "I'm sure you did." He replied. "It really was so much fun to torture you while I looked like him; to see your face as you watched him hurt you…but, sadly, all good things must come to an end, and I'm afraid we've reached yours, my dear." With that he stepped toward her, pulling his wand from his robes. Closing her eyes, Hermione waited for the sound of the killing curse, wondering vaguely what it would feel like. She found herself wondering about Harry. Poor, sweet, gullible Harry. He would have no one now…

Instead of killing her, however, Malfoy released her from the chains, and Hermione fell into a surprised heap on the cold floor. She looked up into Malfoy's eyes, her whole face a question mark. Malfoy looked at her almost tenderly. "We just have one last piece of business to finish first", he whispered, moving towards her. Hermione tried to scuttle away, but found herself in too much pain to move. She closed her eyes and heard Malfoy whisper once again, 

"One last piece of business…"

**A/N 2: Well, there it is. Chapter 4. Loved? Hated? Want to run after me and fling office supplies at my head? Lemme know. Grr, there's all this space here and I hate to just leave it, but I know y'all don't want me to babble, so I guess I'll just have to deal, right? Let me just add that the next chappie should be out real soon, cuz the right now this fic is practically writing itself. Oh yea, and let me know what you thought of me putting Harry's point of view in, k? With that said, I'm off…**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Well, here it is. The next chapter, written in less than a week. Wowsa. I feel rather proud of myself. But I have to say that there is a WARNING: remember that forced sexual activity I mentioned in earlier chs? Well this is it, folks, so if the idea of someone being raped, yes raped, gives you the urge to flame, I suggest you save us both the trouble and stop reading right now. Okay. Second WARNING (yes there's two): Rape issues aside, I highly doubt that some of you will like this chapter at all. I'm sorry if you don't, but it will not be changed. The story is nearly finished (about two more chapters I think), and I have the ending all planned out. It will be done according to plan, no matter what. **

**Okay, with all that out of the way, thank yous:**

****

**Oxsammie: Yes, Harry is gay, and Draco used that to get to Hermione. I think that Draco's sexual orientation is whatever gives him the power, or benefits him in the long run.**

**Spiffy: * grins* thanks for not throwing stuff at me!**

**Serpent du feu: Thank you, thank you…and you once again get your wish! ;)**

**"**

**Mimi 2: Ooooh, cake! Yum! Now I _have_ to keep going.**

**AngiePanj: Okay, okay, here's your special message, ya big baby. Thanks for reading, weirdo!**

**hobo-hobisho: Only you would think that flinging office supplies at my head is sexy. Crackhead. Agatha Christie, huh? "Er…not quite the look I was going for. Perhaps a little more off the top." And btw, I wanna see these track marks. They sound interesting…Actually, reading your whole ER analogy, I started laughing hysterically, then mum asked me what was so funny, and I had to make something up. Call me psycho, but somehow I doubt me mummers would see the whole 'scalpel/penis' thing the way we do. Ciao. * blows even more kisses * You're still a goddess, by the way.  
  
**

**ghypscee: Well, you're welcome. * grins * Your review made my day. Thanks a bunch.**

**Ottowan Angel: * grins evilly * Wasn't it tho? Teehee. * ducks as stapler flies at her head * When I say real soon, I mean real, _real_ soon, as in less than a week soon, as you can see. But always remember! * puts on best wise woman face * Patience is a virtue! * ducks as pens and pencils fly at her head, laughing maniacally * **

**Dea Lofn: Wow, is all I have to say. If I were giving a prize for best review, you would definitely have it! I'm rather proud that I've managed to make your stomach turn. And King and Koontz are two of my fav authors, so you saying I rank with them for twistedness brought a tear to my eye and a smile to my face. Thank you very much.**

"One last piece of business…" the words would have chilled Hermione if she had any emotional response left, but sadly, she didn't. She knew what the last piece of business was; wasn't it obvious? What else could he do to her before the end? She just wished that he could get it over with so that this horror would be finished once and for all. With this thought in mind, Hermione began working on mentally detaching herself from the situation, one metaphoric plug at a time. She didn't care anymore; she just hoped that he would have the decency to cover her properly before Harry finally found them. She may not care about herself anymore, but she did care about Harry, and she knew that it would kill him to see just how screwed up Malfoy was.

Speaking of Malfoy, she heard him coming closer, and she didn't even bother to open her eyes. Who cared, really? Who fucking cared? Let Malfoy rape her; let him take whatever he wanted. It didn't matter anymore. 

A sharp slap cracked Hermione out of her thoughts, and her eyes flew open. Malfoy was glaring down at her. "Oh, no, my little mudblood", he whispered. "There'll be no removing yourself from this situation. I want to enjoy this."  And he slapped her again. Hermione couldn't help it; her eyes watered with the force of the slap, and Draco smiled viciously. "That's better", he murmured, and stroked his hand down her cheek. Hermione flinched, and Draco smacked her again. "That's much, _much_ better", he told her, giving her that almost tender look again and making Hermione want to retch.

Suddenly, Hermione was back to herself, and despite the pain she scurried as far away from Malfoy as she cold get. He laughed. "Now that is _definitely_ more like it." He said, moving towards her once again. When she started to move away, he kicked her hard in her stomach. She grunted and stopped moving completely, and Malfoy crawled on top of her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her to the ground. "See", he explained, "while normally I would love to play this little cat and mouse game with you, right now I'm not so sure how close your beloved Potty is to finding us, and I really would like to finish this without an audience, don't you agree?" he paused and regarded her mockingly. "Though I do think it would be fun to kill you in front of him. Whaddya think, mudblood? Think I should wait to kill you until Potter gets here? I highly doubt that he could stop me, and it would be rather fun to watch him crumble, don't you think?"

Anger welled up in Hermione, and she spit in Malfoy's face. "I hate you", she hissed, and began to struggle in earnest, squirming as hard as she could, trying desperately to get away. All the feelings of apathy that she had felt earlier were gone, now to be replaced by a fierce loathing coupled with the knowledge that if he touched her that way, if he was inside her, she truly would go insane. So she struggled, tears leaking from her eyes as the very futileness of her situation washed over her.

Malfoy hissed in a sharp breath and arched against her, and as Hermione felt just how excited he was she gave a small moan of pure terror, and with a burst of adrenaline threw Malfoy off of her. Startled, Malfoy didn't move for a second, and Hermione took that moment to move for the door as fast as she could, which wasn't very fast considering how much blood she had lost overnight, and she was sore and tired from hanging all night in chains. Still, she gave it a try, and was almost at the door when Malfoy's laughing voice stopped her…or rather, the _petrificus totalis_ that he said. Stiff as a board, Hermione fell to the ground, and soon enough Malfoy was standing over her, still laughing.

"I told you, we just have no time for this", he informed her, waving a finger in mock chastisement. "Fun as it is, I really must put a stop to it." With this said, Malfoy picked her up and dragged her to another part of the room, where chains laid on the floor rather than the wall. Releasing Hermione from the spell, quick as a flash Malfoy grabbed her arms and secured them to the floor with the chains, then went for her flailing feet. Hermione was gratified to feel one of her feet make contact with Malfoy's face; a loud crunch echoed in the room as his nose broke. Cursing, Malfoy hissed, "_Crucio_", and as Hermione writhed in pain, grabbed her legs and secured them as well.

Pointing his wand at his face, Malfoy healed his broken nose and then ended the spell on Hermione, watching in satisfaction as she twitched from the force of the spell. Hermione knew that this spell had been worse than the last; the spell depends on the anger and hate behind it, and last time Malfoy had been more amused than angry. Weakly, Hermione struggled against her bonds, and Malfoy's humor seemed to return to him as he chuckled. "Dear, struggling wont get you anywhere. Why don't you just lie back and think of England?"

Hermione gave a small shriek of anger, and Draco grinned. "Well, now, how to start this?" he asked rhetorically, a strange light in his eyes. He pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, and suddenly Hermione felt the cold stone floor against her naked back. Malfoy's eyes crawled over her bare skin avidly, and Hermione tried vainly to shrink away, out of his sight, but soon gave up as the chains made it impossible to move at all. Helpless tears leaked from her eyes as Malfoy, still fully clothed, climbed on top of her once again. He placed his elbows on either side of her head and pillowed his head on his hands. Hermione couldn't keep the terror out of her eyes as he looked down at her, and Malfoy gave her a delighted grin when he saw it. He bent his head down and kissed her harshly, biting her lips and tongue until they bled, his own tongue forcing its way into her mouth to taste it. He moaned as her blood filled his mouth, and Hermione gagged helplessly.

Pulling back, Malfoy gave her one last grin before making his way down, trailing his mouth down her body, biting hard and drawing blood the whole way. He used his hands to pinch and tweak every inch of skin he could, scratching as well until Hermione was a mass of writhing pain and blood. Something in her mind was sliding, and Hermione found that she was holding on to it with slippery fingers, and it kept slipping out of her grasp. With every place Malfoy's mouth touched, a little of what was left of Hermione's sanity was chipped away, leaving a small core that was, she was horrified to find, pure hatred and loathing, and was centered on Malfoy and only Malfoy. Still, Hermione refused to let him know how he was hurting her, and although tears streamed down her face, she didn't make a sound.

When Malfoy was finished maiming her with his mouth, he quickly divested himself of his own clothes, and leaned over her. "Is it true that no one's had you since Weasley?' he whispered. Hermione didn't answer, and he leered. "Why am I even bothering to ask? Of course it is", he said, and leaned even closer to her to hiss in her ear, "I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to hurt you while I do it. And I won't stop until you scream. Keep that in mind, luv." And he ripped into her.

_Oh, God._ Draco had been right, Ron had been her first and only lover, and that had been once…and it had hurt, but he'd been so gentle and kind and Hermione had loved him more than anything and then he had died but it oh god the pain the pain it hadn't been this bad and oh how could she bear not to _scream_…

The pain was so horrible that Hermione bit right through her bottom lip, severing a chunk of skin from it and Hermione barely even noticed when she swallowed it, and as he kept moving inside of her, tearing her inside more and more and finally she gave in; opening her mouth she screamed…screeched her pain into Malfoy's mouth as it came crashing down on hers, hurting her torn and bruised lips even more as he forced his tongue in her mouth and thrust harder inside her, and then he let his own scream fill Hermione's mouth as he came inside her, and Hermione felt the last of her sanity leave her with a calm detachment, and a resolve that yes, she may die, would welcome it, but first she would kill the bastard lying on top of her…she would banish his evil from the world, if it was the last thing she did.

~****~

When it was over, the thing just laid there like a lump, until Draco gave out an exasperated sigh and covered it. He was glad he hadn't raped her before this; he had enjoyed breaking her slowly, and he was extremely pleased that the sex act had finished the job. It had been very hot, fucking her until she had screamed from the pain of it, and if she had still been herself Draco might've taken her again. As it was his arousal was dampened considerably by seeing what a disgusting lump the creature made when broken. Oh, well. It didn't matter, really. Pathetic little Potter and the cavalry would be here any minute, and Draco had every intention of being gone when they did show up, despite what he'd said to the mudblood earlier.

With this in mind Draco pulled out his wand. Releasing the thing from its bonds, he quickly noticed that she was incapable of getting herself dressed and so started to dress her himself; when he realized that the mudblood was bleeding. He considered leaving her like this, just to torture the idiot who would find the creature; he even thought of just killing her and laying her spread eagled and naked on his dungeon floor. How that would shatter Potter. However, Draco thought better of this course of action. As much as he hated it, Draco felt a certain respect for the thing in front of him, and thought that he may as well leave it some dignity in its death. Thinking this, Draco made sure to say a spell that would stop the bleeding, and dressed the mudblood in her soiled clothing. He toyed with the idea of cleaning the clothing as well, then decided not to. It wasn't as if it really mattered. She was filth; it was only fit that she die in filth as well.

When she was fully clothed Draco placed her in the center of the room and stood back to survey his handiwork. He couldn't suppress a smile of pure delight as he took in the mudblood with tears drying on her cheeks and her hair a ratted mess, the filthy clothes and the blank look in her eyes. He had done what he'd promised himself long ago: he had broken her mind, turned it into so much dust, and now he would finish her off. His only regret was that he couldn't do the same to Potter.

As luck would have it, that last glance he took at what he'd destroyed sealed his fate. Just as he was raising his wand to complete his twisted fantasy, the dungeon door crashed open, and none other than Harry Potter burst in, looking wild. Draco glanced up, and that was all the time Potter needed. With a cry of "_Expelliarmus!_" Draco's wand was out of his hand and across the room, and Potter's own wand was pointing straight at Draco.

Draco found himself looking into lost green eyes. "Why?" Potter asked helplessly, tears streaming down his cheeks as his worst fears were confirmed, without a doubt. Draco sneered. "You are such a fool, Potter", he snarled. "Believing that I would ever choose you over My Lord, believing that I could ever actually _love_ you. You're worthless, Potter. It was so easy, making you think that I cared. You were so fucking desperate. What's the matter _Harry_," he said as Potter flinched, putting as much hate and mockery into the name as he could, "can't handle the truth? Well, here it is Potter, from me to you: you were just a pawn, and not even an interesting one at that." 

With these words Draco flung himself at Potter; the other man's wand clattered useless to the ground as Draco's hands wrapped around his throat, and his hands beat weakly at Draco's own as he tried to free himself. Draco felt a surge of powerful adrenaline shoot through him. He would be able to achieve his dream after all. He would kill Potter, then go after the mudblood. They would both die by his hand. Draco was in a state of wonderful euphoria; he could feel Potter's life leaving his body…oh, this was bliss, this muggle way of killing…he would have to do the same with the mudblood.

But once again Draco's dream would go unrealized, as he heard the hiss of indrawn breath behind him he looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened to see the last thing he ever expected: the mudblood, a deadly intent in her eyes, pointing Draco's own wand at his head. He only had time to whisper, "No, you _can't_," before the mudblood opened her mouth and uttered a spell, then there was a flash of green light brighter than Harry Potter's eyes, and the whole world ended for Draco Malfoy with the words

_Avada Kedavra_.

**A/N 2: Okay, originally I was going to continue from here, but then I thought, nahh, I like it right where it is…so I left it. * grins evilly * Now,  I'm sure there were those of you who hated this chapter, but as I stated before, the story has been finished (mentally, of course) for some time now, and I am not going to be changing it. Of course, killing Draco off makes me wonder if I have lost my readers. If so, well, thanks for reading thus far, and maybe I'll hear from you regarding my other fics. But this is not the end. I still have one or two more chapters to go, and I do hope that at least a few of you will stick with me. With that said, I implore you to leave a review, even those who have decided never to come back and read any more of this. Thanks a bunch.**

**~Libbs~**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello, people. I am back. Again. I am turning into an updating machine…woohoo, I am on a serious roll with this story! Yay yay yay! Oh, and it has come to my attention that some of you think that I have finished the fic with ch 5.  just so you know, I haven't. I still have a little ways to go yet.**

**Thank you's:**

**Cruenta Rosa: Thanks. I would end it here, but I have a few more places I wanna take this fic before I quit.**

**ghypscee: oh, no, I am an American. The "lie back and think of England" thing was actually taken from something I read once, and actually it wasn't about rape at all. It just sorta stuck in my head so I used it.**

**Serpent du feu: well, you'll find out for sure who killed him in this chap. And terrifyingly beautiful may be a contradiction in itself, but I love you for saying it!**

**Amy: I am glad you don't think I screwed up in killing Draco, but trust me, there is more psychobabble to come.**

**Sparkle 3: Thanks, and I am!**

**WishIwasAtHogwarts: Well, I am glad you like my writing, and I am happy you tried the fic, at least.**

**Spiffy: Thanks**

**Geo: oh, well I don't know about an epilogue, but I do have a few more chapters up my sleeve.**

**hotaru**

**lizx**

****

**Dea Lofn: I swear, if I knew you, I'd kiss you. Your reviews seriously make my day. I'm glad you are sticking with this fic till the end.**

**Ottawan Angel: thank you. Your review made me feel so much better after agonizing over killing Draco, and I am happy you'll still be reading.**

**Barbi: wow. Thanks a bunch for going against your usual and reading my fic!**

It had all happened so fast, Harry knew, yet for him it had gone agonizingly slow. After Apparating to his flat with the team of Aurors and Ministry Officials and finding that Draco had gone, an argument had broken out over what to do next. Harry himself had wanted to go to all possible places Draco might be, but the Aurors were rather methodical and by the book, and refused. All except for Moody, of course. Harry had backed out of the argument quickly, knowing that it wouldn't help 'Mione at all. He'd wandered from room to room aimlessly, his mind in a fog as he remembered all the things that had happened with Draco in them. Here was where they had discussed Ron's death for the first time since the war. Here was where Draco had told him that he had to befriend Hermione again, to save his sanity. Here was where Harry had first found out exactly what Draco had gone through at Lucius Malfoy's hands…being beaten, starved, even forced to watch as his father tortured Muggles…attending Death Eater meetings in the dungeon…

Harry's head snapped up and his eyes cleared. **Malfoy Manor. Of course! Where else would Draco take her?** He almost smacked his forehead in frustration. How could he be so stupid? Quickly, Harry started to make his way towards the front and help, when he hesitated. He wasn't sure that he wanted them there. He wanted Hermione safe, of course, but he didn't want to give them Draco. A sudden cold fury swept through him and he made up his mind. There was no way he would be letting Draco out of the dungeons alive, not after what he'd done to Hermione. Not after he'd used Harry to get to her. Harry was going to kill him.

With that in mind, Harry Apparated out of the flat, and to the grounds just outside of Malfoy Manor. He remembered Draco mentioning once that you couldn't Apparate to Malfoy Manor, it having the same protection charms as Hogwarts. Angrier than ever, Harry made his way to the front doors, half expecting entering the Manor to be difficult. It wasn't. Harry made his way into the Manor, and gave a small gasp of surprise.

He'd been in here once before, with Draco, right after the war was over. It had been in shambles, and Harry had felt so horrible that Draco had to see the place where he'd grown up in such a state. But Draco's eyes had been calm and cold, and he'd told Harry without emotion that the Manor looked better than it ever had, and he hoped he never had to see it again. Harry had thought those words the truth, and hadn't given it a second thought. Now, looking at the spotless foyer he was standing in, and looking at the equally spotless rooms that he could see, Harry realized the enormity of Draco's lie.

It was obvious that Draco had been renovating the Manor, restoring it to its original perfection inside while the outside was left in ruin. But for what? Harry didn't know, and didn't particularly care, as he didn't intend on letting Draco leave this place alive. 

Ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that told him to turn around, get the damn Aurors, and bring them back already, you bloody idiot, Harry made his way to where he knew the dungeons would be, Draco having shown him that one time they were here together.  Only he got lost somehow, and wound up on the second floor. He remembered Draco saying, with some pride, that the Manor was quite tricky that way. Independent of spells and charms, the Manor could sense when some visitor bore an ill will towards any member of the family, and acted accordingly. Sometimes, Draco had recalled fondly, the Manor would confuse the ill wisher so badly that they would end up crying, and when found, run out the door screaming wildly. Even grown witches and wizards.

Likewise the Manor helped those who cared for the Malfoys. Draco had told Harry of the time when he himself had gotten lost in the Manor's many corridors and wound up crying helplessly and wailing for his mother. Suddenly, he had turned a corner and there she was, with his father talking to some of their friends. Draco had cried out in relief and ran to her, throwing himself upon her and hugging her tightly. His father had frowned, and later Draco had received his first beating from his father for not acting like a Malfoy should in front of guests. Later, when Lucius had been certain Draco had learned his lesson, he'd told his son about the staircase. Draco had been six.

When he had first heard the story, Harry had embraced Draco fiercely; furious at Lucius for hurting the man he so loved. Now, Harry was quite unsure how much of the story had been true, but he knew for certain that the part about the Manor was. With this in mind, Harry concentrated on his love for Draco—because a part of him still loved the blonde, despite what he'd done, which made Harry all the angrier—and started walking aimlessly through the corridors, thinking over and over **I need Draco, love Draco, need Draco…**and sure enough, Harry soon found himself at the entrance to the dungeons. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for whatever he might see, Harry threw open the door and entered.

What he saw made what small hope he'd managed to hold on to crumble to dust around his feet. Draco, wand poised over Hermione, whose eyes were cold and dead.

Draco glanced up; without thinking Harry cried "_Expelliarmus_", and watched as his lover's wand soared through the air and hit the wall, well out of reach. Harry turned back to Draco and pointed his wand at the other man's face, but he knew it was a meaningless gesture. Something inside of Harry had broken when he'd seen what Draco had done, what he was planning on continuing, and hot tears poured down his face as he asked "Why?"

Draco had sneered, knowing that Harry was incapable of killing him, and started insulting the darker man, pouring out all the venom that Harry now knew had lain inside him since he'd pretended to care about him. Harry took the abuse, helpless to do anything else, and didn't even bother fighting until he felt Draco's hands wrap around his throat. Then Harry's eyes widened, and he tried to break the grasp that Draco had on his neck; but Draco was too strong, there was an insane light in his eyes and as Harry felt his life leaving him he saw Draco smiling, happy, and finally he was able to hate him.

Fat lot of good that did him though, Harry thought as darkness began to close over his head, and just as he was about to give in, he heard a voice hiss two words that would forever haunt his dreams. Draco whispered, "No, you _can't_", and then a green light engulfed him and the hands around his neck loosened and dropped as Draco fell to the floor, dead.

Harry stared at the man on the floor for a few moments before turning to look at his murderer. Hermione was also looking at the body, still clutching Draco's wand in her hand, but when she felt Harry's gaze on her she looked up at him; Harry was shocked to see how lifeless her eyes seemed. "Well", she said in a voice as dead as her eyes, "I guess that's that, then."

Harry took a step towards her, and she pointed the wand at him. "If you get any closer I'll fucking kill you", she hissed, and Harry stopped and stared at her, stunned. What he saw in her eyes scared the hell out of him: she was serious. The hand that was pointing the wand at his head did not shake, and neither had her voice when she'd threatened him. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, before Hermione started to shake violently. Worried for his friend, Harry started toward her, but she raised her wand and hissed out, "_Cruciatus_", hitting Harry right in the chest and sending him to his knees as waves of pain shot through him.

Harry curled into a ball on the floor as pain wracked him, worse than even when Voldemort had used it on him…maybe because it was a friend that had used it this time, maybe because he'd grown soft after he defeated him. Whatever the reason, it was almost unbearable, and Harry opened his mouth to let out a scream of pure anguish when the pain suddenly stopped. Slowly, body still shaking with remembered pain, Harry turned to look at Hermione, and found the reason that the curse had lifted. The pain and shock had finally become too much for her, and she had passed out.

Relieved, Harry rested a few more moments to catch his breath, then stood. Going over to Hermione, he pried Draco's wand from her fingers and snapped it in half. A stream of bright white light shot out of the broken halves of the wand, and then it disintegrated to ash in Harry's hands. Giving a disgusted sneer, Harry dusted his hands off, then picked up his childhood friend. Holding her close, he left the Manor, which tried no tricks on him, perhaps sensing it's owner's death. Once outside the grounds, Harry brought out his wand and Apparated both himself and Hermione to St. Mungo's, hoping that he wouldn't splinch them in the process.

Thankfully he didn't, and as he handed Hermione off to one of the Healers and allowed another to lead him to a bed and pour a potion down his throat, Harry finally allowed himself the grief and cried as he fell asleep.

~****~

Hermione woke slowly, wondering idly what torture Malfoy had for her today. It was only when she felt the scratch of sheets against her body and saw the comforting, worried face of the Healer above her that he remembered the day before. Harry had come for her, and she had killed Malfoy…she would have killed Harry too, but she had fainted…Harry must have Apparated them here, somehow. 

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn't hear the Healer speaking to her. She did notice it when he snapped his fingers in her face, though. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and if she had had a wand, she would have killed him. The Healer didn't notice this, though, and smiled at her. "And how are we feeling this morning?" he asked, and she hated him. Gritting her teeth, Hermione answered tightly, "Peachy." He laughed, then sobered up. "Well, you can leave today." Hermione didn't even reply, just stood up and started dressing herself. A hand on her arm stopped her. "I'm sorry", her Healer was saying, "I didn't mean for you to get going right now. There are a few Aurors here who want to ask you some questions first."

Hermione glared, but followed the Healer to a private room, where two Aurors and Harry Potter sat. When Hermione's eyes met Harry's, she stiffened, and wished for her wand. She hated him…hated him. Instead she put a smile on her face and sat down as far away from Harry as she could get. The Aurors began firing questions at her: what had Malfoy done to her, how he'd done it, that sort of thing. They were especially interested to learn that Malfoy had used Muggle forms of torture as well as magical. Then they turned to Harry and asked him a few questions. Hermione was quite amused when Harry told the Aurors that Malfoy had placed the Cruciatus curse on him. She would have laughed out loud at the man's attempt to protect her, but it really didn't seem prudent. Pretty soon it was over, except for one question. The female Auror, who turned out to be Nymphadora Tonks herself, asked Hermione gently, "Honey, I know this is a tough question to answer, but please tell me truthfully. Did he rape you?"

With no outward change in appearance, Hermione shook her head, and now her expression did change to fit the situation, turning to one of immense horrified relief. "Thank God", she added, and Tonks gave her a sympathetic smile before saying, "You can go now", and Hermione walked out of the room, head high, ignoring Harry's attempts to talk to her, and after receiving her wand, which Aurors had obtained from Malfoy Manor, Apparated home without a word to Harry.

~****~

He'd tried several times to contact her, but she ignored everything. His owls, his calls, his visits. The only person she let near her now was Tonks, who had told Harry sadly that Hermione really didn't want to see him. The months went by, and eventually, Hermione banished even Tonks from her flat. She was a recluse, and seemed to have no intentions of changing any time soon. Still, Harry wouldn't give up, and finally when it got to be too much, he decided that he was going to Apparate straight into her flat. Screw the niceties, he needed to see her. So, eight and a half months after he'd saved her from Malfoy, Harry Potter decided to break into Hermione's flat, and damn the consequences.

He really should have left well enough alone.

**A/N: Ooooh, another cliffie. I like these, they keep you interested. * grin * so, anyway, you know the drill. Click that oh so cute review button and lemme know what you think! Thanks.**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Well, this is it. The end. That's all she wrote, and she can't write no more. How will our dear Hermione be when Harry goes to see her? How will Harry react to what he finds? It's all here, trust me. **

**But before you find out, I'd like to thank a few people…**

**Angel Storm: But I like watching you dangle! It's so much more fun than helping you up, you know.**

**Spiffy: Oh, good. I know that those men in white coats can be real jerks, but I'm glad they let you have some sort of playtime, even if it is just to read my story. And do keep in mind that Draco did torture Hermione for quite some time as Harry. Besides that, she's crazy.**

**GrimReaperGirl: Thanx. You know, I have read that book a long long time ago, and I have to say I had forgotten about the fingernail thing until you mentioned it in your review…Hmm…perhaps I subconsciously borrowed the fingernail thing?**

**hotaru420**

**Dea Lofn: Well, here it is: the part where you will find out if Hermione kills Harry or not. I don't know about the book, but it is really sweet of you to say that! I don't know you, but I love you. * grin ***

**Serpent du feu: Oh wow. This is the first time that you've been wrong. Sorry, but there are no happy endings here. Yes, Draco is really dead. There will be no resurrection here either. And as for the other bit…well, you'll see. ;)**

**AngiePanj: Yeah, it was short, but I needed it to be to fit this chapter. Teehee, yes, spellcheck on Word does wonders, doesn't it?**

**Ottowan Angel: Yeah, yeah, you're right. I knew that line would give it away, but it had to be done. No, I guess she's not broken, but insane people are much more interesting, donchya think?**

**denise4: Oh, it's Harry, alright.**

**Hobo-hobisho: And the goddess returns. Yay. If they actually had houses like that, I would buy you one. For serious. Wow, that sure would be a lot of people to kill off…I don't think that my brain is quite up to the task. Your next fix is here though, so don't curse me, I'm fragile…**

**With all that done, I just want to give you guys a big thank you for reviewing…especially those of you who stayed with me for every chapter. This story took so much out of me, but you guys made it worthwhile. Thank you once again and enjoy the last chapter of Twisted Obsession…**

The first thing that Harry saw was the blood. It covered everything in the room: the floor, the walls, even the furniture. He was so shocked that he simply stood there at first, right in the middle of all that mess. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He only jerked out of his stupor when a voice groaned weakly. Knowing that there was only one person who could possibly be in here, Harry called, "Hermione?" He was answered with yet another small groan, and as Harry scanned the room with his eyes, he saw her. She was sitting in the farthest corner of the room, covered in blood, though she didn't seem to be bleeding. Harry rushed to her, kicking aside a small rag on the way, and knelt beside her. 

"Oh, God, 'Mione, what happened?" he asked as she reached her. Hermione lifted glazed eyes to look at him and let out a soft giggle. "Gone", she whispered softly. "All gone." Harry frowned. "What's gone?" he asked, and she giggled again. By now, Harry was seriously worried for her, and he reached out a hand to comfort her somehow, maybe stroke her cheek, or brush her hair out of her eyes. 

Hermione was having none of that. As soon as Harry's hand got close enough, she leaned forward and bit it, drawing blood. Harry let out a frightened yelp and jerked his hand back, staring at Hermione with wide eyes. Once again, she giggled. Raising her own hand, she wagged a finger at him in mock admonishment, saying, "No touch", as though she were scolding a small child. Harry decided that the best thing he could do right now would be to humor her, so he fixed her with a solemn expression and shook his head. "No touch," he repeated, and Hermione nodded, satisfied, before turning her head to look at something behind Harry. 

Harry turned his own head to see what she was looking at, and saw the rag-like thing that he had kicked earlier. It was completely drenched in blood, and Harry assumed that Hermione had used it to try and clean up the blood on the floor. From the looks of things it hadn't worked, and not for the first time Harry wondered just where all that blood had come from. He turned back to Hermione. "Are you bleeding?" he asked her softly, and Hermione grinned at him. "Nope", she said cheerfully, "I fixed it." She waved her wand in front of Harry's face, and he nodded. "Okay then, why didn't you clean this mess up?" Hermione looked at him as though he were stupid. "Clean what up?" she asked, and laughed. 

Harry stared at Hermione incredulously. "All this mess", he said, gesturing around the room. "Don't you want to get rid of it?" Hermione frowned. "Get rid of it?" she echoed. "Why? S'pretty. I did it myself", she added, looking around the room with satisfaction. Then she shook her head. "No", she said, "Baby helped. Baby helped a lot. But now it's gone, all gone."

"Baby?" Harry echoed, "What baby?" He was becoming increasingly frightened, looking into Hermione's almost dead eyes and listening to her talk. He had known she wasn't better, he had known…and now she was going on about a baby—wait a minute, baby…

Hermione was speaking, but Harry barely heard her. He was too busy moving towards what he had thought was a rag, but hadn't the rag been rather solid? Hadn't he thought that it was odd for Hermione to just use one rag to clear the mess, or even use a rag at all, as she had a wand and knew more cleaning spells than anyone else at Hogwarts? Horror mounting, Harry approached the 'rag', and when he got a clear look at it, promptly threw up. It wasn't a rag, after all, oh no. It was much worse.

What Harry was staring at was the remains of what had once been a baby. It was destroyed, a bloody mass of tissue. Its arms and legs were covered in scratches and slashes of what Harry knew were from a knife. Its little belly had been sliced open, and its skull had been crushed. But the worst part was how it had been twisted, turned, wrung out and drained of its blood. Harry supposed Hermione had done it so that she could finish…it all became too much for him and he threw up again, and came very close to passing out.

When he had gotten himself under control again, Harry turned back to Hermione, raising horrified eyes to meet hers. She was grinning, advancing on Harry, one hand behind her back. "Do you like my project?" she asked him. Harry didn't reply, and she continued, "I knew that baby would be perfect. I really couldn't let it live anyway, could I? No, oh no, no, no, no, not that baby…couldn't let it live to be like _him_. But I could make pretty things with it…oh yes, pretty, pretty things. Don't you think they're pretty?" Harry gulped and backed away from Hermione, not noticing as his wand fell from nerveless fingers. Hermione waited patiently for him to answer, but Harry was too repulsed to do anything more than back away. Hermione smiled. "Don't want to answer? No matter. I think it's pretty, and really, that's all that matters, isn't it?" she looked around the room again, and suddenly the dazed look left her eyes, to be replaced with horror. "Oh, God," she whispered, "What happened in here? What did I do?" She looked at Harry, then at her floor, and her eyes fell on the baby. 

Tears filled her eyes as she stared down at what she had done, and a hand slowly came to cover her mouth as she whispered, "No, no, oh no", shaking her head and backing out of the room. "I-I think I'm going to be sick", she said, then bolted from the room.

Harry stared after her. What the hell had just happened? One minute she's talking about how pretty everything is, the next she's acting horrified by what she's done. He didn't get it at all. Deciding that he would get the hell out while she was occupied, Harry began to look for his wand. He spotted it next to the baby, and started towards it.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" her voice asked, startling him. Harry looked up, and saw her standing in the entrance to the room, a sad look on her face. He didn't know what to say. Hell yes, he was leaving, and then he was going to get Hermione some help. She was seriously fucked up. But he wasn't sure that telling her this would be a good idea. Hermione just stared at him, tears filling her eyes. She looked back down at the baby and shuddered. "I don't know what happened", she said softly. "I knew I was pregnant, of course, but I couldn't tell anyone. I was just so _ashamed_. And then I had the baby, and he—he was so beautiful, but he looked just like _him_, and I-I just couldn't…then I guess I blanked out…Oh my God, what did I _do_?" she cried, then broke down sobbing, and suddenly the revulsion Harry felt was replaced by pity, with no small amount of guilt. Hermione was a mess, true, but had he really tried to help her? Had anyone?  They all shared a part of the blame for this, Harry thought, and the least that he could do was to help her.

With this in mind, Harry crossed the room and took Hermione into his arms, stopping only to pick up his wand. She stiffened, then relaxed into his embrace, burying her head into his shoulder as she cried. When her tears had tapered, she raised her head to look at Harry. "What are we going to do?" she asked, and Harry sighed. What he was about to do could get him into serious trouble, but Hermione was his friend, and he couldn't bear to see her receive the Dementor's Kiss because of what Malfoy had done to her. 

"What we do", he said, "is clean this mess up. Then, we go down to St. Mungoe's and you check yourself in. You need help, 'Mione, but no one needs to know about this at all." Hermione sent him a grateful smile and said, "Okay, Harry. You're right, I need help, and soon." Harry gave her one last wand, then went back into the room and raised his wand. "_Scourgify_" he intoned, and the room was instantly spotless. Gritting his teeth, Harry next pointed his wand at the baby. "_Incendio_", he said, and the baby turned to ashes at his feet. After getting rid of the ashes, Harry turned back to Hermione, only to find her smirking, the dead look back on her face. 

"So easy", she told him. "You're too noble for your own good, Potter." She smiled at him and raised her wand. Panicked, Harry started to raise his, but she was quicker. "_Expelliarmus_", she cried, and Harry's wand flew across the room and out of his reach. Giving him a beautiful smile that Harry remembered from happier times, times before Malfoy, Hermione said, "Since you helped me get rid of the mess, I'll go easy on you. _Avada Kedavra_." And then there was a brilliant flash of green light and The Boy Who Lived was no more.

~****~

Hermione Granger's house had been Charmed to detect Dark Magic, and alert the Ministry of any Dark Magic used in or near the house. If any was used, a small red light would glow brightly, and several Ministry officials would be at the house in less than a minute. However, as the months had gone by, nothing had happened, and those who were supposed to be checking the light got sloppy. It was sometimes several hours before anyone would remember to check it, but as nothing ever happened, no one got in trouble. By the time that Hermione killed Harry Potter, the light hadn't been checked for several days.

So when someone finally noticed that the little light had turned red, it wasn't a shock to anyone when they Apparated to the house, only to find it empty. What was a shock was to see Harry Potter sprawled out in the middle of the living room, dead…and for quite awhile, if the flies were anything to go by.

Sadly, Harry had been missed no more than Hermione, having become a recluse himself since the betrayal and death of his lover. No one had thought to make sure he was okay, and now they bitterly regretted it, feeling that they might have been able to stop this horror from happening. Sadly, they gathered Harry up and gave him a proper burial, then started their manhunt for his killer; assuming that whoever had killed Harry had taken Hermione as well. They put out a reward for anyone who had information about Hermione, and got several false leads, but never anything concrete.

The years passed, and gradually, the search for Harry's killer stopped, as well as the search for Hermione Granger. If someone had kidnapped her, there was no way that she was alive now, and the trail for Harry's killer had long since grown cold. No, the case was never solved. Instead, it was tucked in a back room of the Ministry, only to be thought of when the older Ministry officials had nothing more to talk about during get togethers, an old story that had many villains, and any ending the teller could think up.

**A/N: Wow. I can't believe this is really over. Amazing. I finished something. Yay! And now, the moment of truth. The time where the readers give their verdict on the story, in its entirety.  * gulps * Go easy on me, I'm delicate. * grins * It's been a trip, and I hope to see your guys' reviews in other stories…**


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